BY TWO O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON, TRAFFIC ON I-5 was already bumper-to-bumper, and it didn’t improve much once I turned off toward the West Seattle Bridge. Steam from the steel plant where Peter Mayfield and Clyde Tanner had toiled for decades rolled out of the smokestacks and into the air, creating a white puff of cloud against a still-blue sky. I felt a sudden kinship to those two old guys—men I’d never met—who had formed a lifelong friendship while laboring at backbreaking work in that challenging environment. In a way finding Petey would be a resolution for Peter Mayfield and Clyde Tanner as much as it would be for Alan Dale and Athena.
During the drive to Hilda’s, and wanting to worm myself back into Lucy’s good graces, I asked Siri to direct me to a dog park in West Seattle. It turned out that Westcrest Park wasn’t all that far out of our way. I pulled in and parked. Then, with Lucy on a leash, I retrieved the spare Frisbee I’ve learned to keep in the trunk for occasions such as this. Once she relieved herself, we headed for the off-leash area and I let her rip. Lucy is such a big, gangly beast that people and most other dogs tend to give her a wide berth. In this case there was an obnoxious little dachshund who was determined to give chase. He ran after Lucy, nipping at her heels the whole time. Lucy, for her part, ignored the noisy little creature, but I was surprised that such a short-legged dog could run fast enough to keep up.
After half an hour of play and a drink from the community dog fountain, we got back into the car and headed for Hilda Tanner’s place. When I knocked on her front door, I heard the walker thumping across the living room as she came to answer.
“Who’s there?” she demanded from behind the closed door.
I appreciated the fact that she was cautious about opening the door to unidentified strangers, but I wondered if she was standing on the other side with that revolver of hers either in her hand or in her pocket.
“It’s Beaumont again,” I said, “J. P. Beaumont.”
When she opened the door, Hilda was once again wearing her apron, and the telltale bulge in her apron pocket was there as well. Hilda truly was armed and dangerous.
“What are you up to now?” she asked as a television set tuned to full volume blared in the background.
“I’m here to ask a favor,” I told her. “May I come in?”
“I suppose,” she allowed.
As I entered the house, I saw the tails of several of her precious kitties streaking off for parts unknown.
“What kind of favor?” she wanted to know.
I had decided during the Frisbee-throwing exercise that my best bet for putting Hilda Tanner on my side was to turn Lenora Harrison into the opposition. I made my way to the sagging easy chair and took a seat while Hilda settled on an equally sagging couch and used the remote to mute the TV set. I noticed the program that was playing was Forensic Files on HLN.
“You like forensics?” I asked.
Hilda shrugged. “When Clyde was alive, we watched the news constantly, hour after hour. After he died, I quit the news completely. The local news is all traffic and weather. Since I don’t drive anymore, the traffic is none of my business, and I find out what the weather report is as soon as I open my eyes in the morning. And I don’t like those network shows with all those different characters coming and going. It’s too confusing. So I watch this. What I like best about these shows is that the bad guys usually get caught.”
“Actually, that’s the reason I’m here today—forensics.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to see Lenora Harrison a little earlier in hopes I could get her to file a missing-persons report on her nephew.”
“And?” Hilda asked.
“She refused.”
“That figures.”
“So that’s why I came to see you.”
“You want me to file a missing-persons report?”
“Not exactly,” I replied. “I seem to remember your mentioning that there’s going to be an estate sale at Agnes’s house in the near future.”
Hilda nodded. “Not this weekend but the following one—on Saturday and Sunday.”
“Does that mean that Agnes’s goods are still inside?”
“As far as I know.”
I already knew Hilda was a fan of Forensic Files, but was she actually paying attention to the content? “What do you know about mitochondrial